


Collide

by Twentysomethingloser92



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Smut, Torture, emotional cheating, medication abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24267349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twentysomethingloser92/pseuds/Twentysomethingloser92
Summary: You were drowning, and it feels like he was the only one who could save you.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner, Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	Collide

Your fingers numbly picked at the thread that had come away from your mustard colored blouse moments earlier, you could see the red chipped nail polish on your fingernails, dried dirt settling beneath them. The smell of artificial clean linen and expensive perfume flooded your nostrils. You didn't want to be here, sitting across from the blonde woman with the soft smile and the notepad sitting neatly in her lap. Her suit seemed expensive, from a distance, but you could tell that she had probably gotten it from a department store in the clearance section. 

You tired your hardest to avoid the soft smile and the reassurance behind the woman's deep brown eyes as you continued to look down at the gray carpet, your shoes brushing against it. You could feel the tiredness behind your eyes from the lack of sleep, you knew that when you looked in the mirror you would see the dark rings below your eyes. Sleep was a rare and difficult thing to acquire these days, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how many prescription drugs you were given, you were always awaken to the smell of death and the feeling of the air leaving your lungs.

"It wasn't your fault".

God how many times had you heard that sentence repeated over the past few weeks? It was almost losing it's meaning. It was just words in your ears, sympathy from people who weren't there, who didn't know what really occurred in that room.  
"Did you read the brief?" You asked, voice quiet and dry as if you hadn't drank water in weeks. 

"I did". 

You let out a small sigh, your eyes finally looking up to see the the psychologist's sympathetic glance, her head slightly tilted to try and show that she was listening to you, "Then you know that it isn't true. I was reckless. I-I was stupid," You gave a small, but sarcastic, smile, "I've been in this job for over 3 years, I should have known better,"

You watched as the psychologist wrote something in her notepad before looking back up at you, her hands resting neatly back in her lap, "Everyone makes mistakes-"

Roughly, you shook your head, "I got them girls killed. I had a choice and I made the wrong one," You bit out. You could feel the sting behind your eyes as your chest clenched, you swore that you weren't about to cry, you felt like you didn't deserve to cry over the mistake that cost the lives of three girls.

"You didn't know what he was going to do. You had a choice and you made the one best for your survival. If you didn't make that choice you would have died with them."

You scoffed and shook your head, "Sometimes I think that would have been better you know? Better then living with this guilt on my chest every waking moment," You looked down at your wrists, you could still see the scars where the shackles had bit tightly into your skin for days before you were found. You felt the tips of your fingers trace them lightly before looking up, "I could have finished it. Finished him. But he said-" You shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat, two silent tears dropping on to your jean legs, "He said her name and I just froze. It was like I was that kid again you know?" 

The psychologist nodded gently, making it known that she understood, but you knew that she didn't. How on Earth could she understand what it was like to be in the presence of someone you had spent your entire adult life looking for, only for them to taunt you with the one thing they held over you?  
Silence overcame the room, leaving you to resume picking at the thread that was still barely hanging on to your blouse. 

"How's you interactions with the team been since the incident?" 

You gave a slight shrug. Everything was the same.  
Well, almost everything.  
You didn't miss the sympathetic glances, the gentleness when people touched you, the way the team seemed to tip toe around you.  
The only person who didn't was your Unit Chief. He seemed to understand better then anyone at your need not to be coddled. You needed normalcy again, you needed to feel some resemblance of yourself. 

"I think they're scared to talk about it to be honest. It's like, they're worried that if they mention it around me I'll break into a thousand pieces or something," 

"And will you?"

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Break into a thousand pieces". 

You shook your head. You had thought about the incident so much that you had almost become numb to it, you found yourself at night going over the case files repeatedly to see if there was anything you could do to change the outcome but each and every time you did, the answer was always staring you in the face.  
And you chose the wrong one every time.  
"No," You replied simply.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she closed her notebook and looked at the digital clock on the side table. Her eyes met yours and she leaned forward, "I can't clear you for active duty until I'm positive that you're not going to do yourself or anyone else harm," 

"I'm not going to go postal if that's what you're wondering," You joked, reaching down beside you to pick up your brown satchel bag. You knew this conversation was coming, it had been weeks since you had started seeing the FBI psychologist and after each and every session she would tell you that she wasn't clearing you for duty. It was disappointing, another thing that you added to your growing list of things going wrong in your life. 

"It's not. I just don't want you in a dangerous situation and have you freeze. I don't want a phone call saying that something bad has happened to you knowing that you weren't ready for the field yet," She stood up, waiting for you to follow suit, before slowly walking over to the door, "You're doing good though agent. You just need to work through that guilt," 

"And the PTSS," You stated with a small smile. 

The psychologist opened the door, "I'll see you next week same time?" 

You nodded, "Yeah. Thank you," You slipped through and heard the door click closed behind you. You gripped the strap of your bag with two hands and made your way down the blank carpeted hallway, your mind feeling millions of miles away compared to where it should have been. You felt yourself dragging your feet behind you, begging your mind to catch up to where you were. Instead you found yourself thrown back into that dark and dirty cellar, the rusted shackles so tight around your wrist that they sliced through the thin skin. 

Your mind replayed the screams coming from the the girls in front of you, them begging someone to find them; their accusing stares when you told them that the people who where there to help them didn't know where they are.  
The lump in your throat grew as you tried to blink away the tears, shaking your head as you pushed open the glass doors and made your way into the Spring sun. Taking a deep breath in, you tried to remind yourself to breathe, that you weren't there anymore, you weren't under your captors hold anymore. You were free, and he was dead. 

Footsteps beside you made you look up and open your eyes, a small smile crossing your face as you saw your boss' concerned brown eyes looking back at you; "I'm fine Hotch," You tried to smile reassuringly at your Unit Chief, his gaze didn't falter.  
He knew you were lying and he knew that you knew. 

"Did you want me to take you home?" He asked lowly, watching as another agent exited the dull grey building behind you. 

All you wanted was sleep. 

Was to sleep and forget for one night about what had happened, to not wake up in the middle of the night feeling like something was sitting on your chest When you woke up you felt like you could never breathe, you were always tired, always feeling like you were being swallowed hole by the feelings of guilt and sadness that filled your head day after day. 

"I'm okay," You replied gently, "Just a long session is all. A walk might clear it up," You swallowed the dry lump in your throat and walked slowly towards the footpath, away from the black suv. 

SSA Aaron Hotchner turned to face you, "You know you can talk to any of us as well? We stand by you and your actions that day 100%" 

You felt your chest tighten, "I know. And I appreciate it. I really do. But this, this is something I need to do on my own," You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once again but you quickly blinked them away. You licked your lips and gave your boss a small smile, "I'll be okay," You tried again, but you weren't sure if it was him or you you were trying to convince. 

"You will be. But just remember that there are people who love and care about you. What you did was for survival," He tried again to make you see the situation from his point of view, "The Director thinks so, I think so, the team think so,"

"Yeah well there's three different families who would beg to differ Hotch," You snapped back, looking down almost immediately as if you were ashamed of your reaction. 

Aaron didn't even flinch at your outburst, it wasn't the first and he was positive that it wouldn't be the last.  
He stayed silent. 

"Sorry, I guess I'm just tired," You rectified, taking a small step backwards. 

"You know you can call me. Anytime day or night," He reassured, almost forcing the point across that he was there, no matter what, to help you.

You nodded, "Thanks Hotch," You turned on your heel and walked towards the busy street. You could feel Hotch's eyes on you as you ran across the four lane street and down the sidewalk. It was piercing, as if he could see through your very demeanor.  
From the beginning he was the one who found you, who held you as you cried in his arms; dirty and bleeding. He waited by your hospital bed until you were ready to talk, he was the one who pushed you to see the department psychologist. 

He was the one constant in your life that kept you grounded, who kept reminding you that what you did wasn't the wrong thing, that you weren't to blame for the deaths.  
You wanted him around every night to hold you tight when the nightmares swallowed you whole, when you couldn't breathe and your head was spinning. You needed him now more then ever.  
A part of you was envious of his wife, his oh so beautiful wife who had no idea what kind of husband she had in Aaron Hotchner. 

But that wasn't your business.

Two stray tears fell down your cheeks as you pushed through the gathering of people walking past, your head down to hide away from the world.  
The scars on your wrist once again reminding you of the raging war inside your head. Reminding you that although your broken ribs had healed and your wounds had turned to scars, there were some things that couldn't heal.


End file.
